


The Antithesis of Sam Winchester

by Amadrei



Category: Supernatural
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2014-01-31
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:38:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amadrei/pseuds/Amadrei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sam realizes Lucifer isn't the best example of a sinner—Sam is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Antithesis of Sam Winchester

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suchanadorer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/gifts).



 

  


* * *

Out of all the things the devil was, Sam was not expecting him to be a virtuous being.

His first hint was several months after he expelled Gadreel from his body, and—still hurt by his brother violating his mind and body in such away, _tricking_ him into consent—he drank he feelings. The devil watched, with pitying eyes and arms crossed over his chest, frown tugged into place on his lips. Sam wanted none of that, no pity, and so he grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanked him from the doorway, and threw him to the bed. Lucifer sat up after the bed recoiled under his weight, and held up his hands.

“Sam,” he warned.

He didn’t listen. He climbed on the bed after him, nudging between his legs and tangling his fingers into short, soft hair the best he could. Lips crushed against lips in a heat of lust, want, need, and the Morningstar tasted like the cold burn of Arctic saltwater.

Strong hands found his shoulders and forcibly pushed him away. Fingers curled around his deltoids, and the pity in the devil’s eyes was replaced with stern censure. “Sam,” he said again. “Not now. You are intoxicated; do not give in to temptation. Wait.”

“I don't want to wait,” Sam grunted, trying again to kiss him but those strong hands held him at bay. “I want to make my own damn choices!”

The devil narrowed his eyes. “Of course you do. But this is not a choice; you are intoxicated, Sam,” he reminded. “You can not make choices—you can not consent in this state.”

The hunter struggled, distraught, because the fucking _devil_ cared more about consent than his own brother. It was an ache, a throbbing pain in his chest. Dean always beat him down with words of “I can’t trust you,” and it _hurt_ , and worse was that Sam couldn’t trust Dean but he could trust _Lucifer_. He openly wept, hardly noticed when he was made to lie down, cold hands brushing his hair away from his face.

“Sleep.”

* * *

His second hint came a couple weeks later, when after a hunt gone wrong left them trapped for several days without any food or water, Lucifer had only taken a few bites of his meal and a few sips of water before sliding the generous remains across the table to Sam, and he eagerly devoured it.

Dean gave him a suspicious glare, clenching his fist on the table. Lucifer merely leaned back into the uncomfortable diner chair and folded his arms over his chest. Castiel glanced between the two of them.

“Relax, Dean,” Lucifer drawled. “I did nothing to the food; how could I, with you watching me like a hawk?”

“Oh, yeah. Right. Like you expect me to believe you are just that charitable?”

“It’s not charity, Private Pessimism, though being charitable is not that difficult for me.” Sam noted the devil’s tone cooled immediately. “There’s this thing called temperance; look it up.”

There was the sound of a chair scooting against tile, and Dean was suddenly standing. “Listen here, you sonovabitch—I don’t appreciate—“

“What?” He interjected, eyes narrowing. “You don’t appreciate that I’m mindful of Sam’s needs? That even though I am still hungry, Sam needs the food more than I do? That I’m showing some restraint? Sit back down—you are making a fool of yourself.”

The elder Winchester scoffed, and ignored Cas’ plea of “Dean…”

“Showing restraint? You sure aren’t holding back from letting me have it.”

“Letting you have it? Oh no, Dean. If I decided I was going to rip into you, I would bring down the hammer of justice and unleash my hellish fury upon you. How dare you betray your brother’s trust? How dare you continue to lie to him? How dare you not apologize to the person who you hurt the most, still? _This_ is nothing. I am showing restraint not only toward myself, but toward you.”

Castiel kept Dean from flying across the table, and Sam lost his voracious appetite.

* * *

“Lucifer, you don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

Sam had to keep himself from rolling his eyes, especially after practically _feeling_ the smirk on the devil’s face.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t have to rub my shoulders just because I mentioned they were a bit sore.”

Lucifer hummed, but did not stop the dig of his thumbs into knotted muscle. “I know I don’t have to, Sam.”

A groan caught in the hunter’s throat, wincing as the archangel dug his fingers in perhaps too much. It hurt, and Sam caught how the devil immediately halted. “Too much?”

“No, no. Keep—keep going. It’s a good hurt.”

He hesitated for a breath, only continuing when Sam rolled his shoulders; even then, he was gentle and soft and slowly built himself back up to his former pressure. Sam closed his eyes and sighed, happy and thankful.

“…Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want to,” came the smooth reply. “And your shoulders are stiff as a board. You need this.”

Sam hummed. “…Couldn’t you use your angel mojo?”

“I could.”

“Then why waste your time doing it the human way?”

Goosebumps bloomed over his flesh when he felt the chill of a breathy laugh wash over the back of his neck. “I thought you might appreciate it more this way.”

“Really.”

“Mm. Do you not?”

Sam shook his head, a tad flustered at the devil’s almost innocent, earnest tone.  “No, it’s not that. I do appreciate it. I just…don’t understand why you’d sacrifice your time to do this for me.”

The hands stopped again. “You’re irritatingly humble, you know?” He resumed once more, thumbs pressing down along either side of Sam’s spine. “It’s a willful sacrifice. One I don’t mind, because I love you.”

* * *

When Sam next saw Lucifer after three weeks and two days had passed since their previous encounter, it was going off a chance tip pertaining to his whereabouts. They locked eyes, and Sam opened his mouth to speak, but the devil had turned and went back to his work, painstakingly carving Enochian sigils into the walls of the abandoned log cabin with a knife that was quickly dulling. The hunter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Lucifer.”

He was ignored, the Morningstar placing all of his focus and diligence into his work, paying no mind to the splinters that either fell to the ground or stuck in his fingers. Sam had to step up behind him and physically wrap his hand around the devil’s wrist to get him to stop. “Lucifer,” he said again.

“I’m busy, Sam.” His voice was quiet, resigned. Sam had a feeling Lucifer knew exactly why he was here.

“Like hell you are. Would you stop ignoring me for just a couple damned minutes?”

The devil breathed out slowly, and finally turned to face Sam, pressing his back against the wall. Sam chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded his thanks. He lessened his grip and carefully pried the serrated blade from the devil’s hand, setting it aside on a nearby table, before he focused on the splinters in his fingers, pulling them out one by one. Lucifer didn’t so much as flinch, his fingers completely still as the human attended to them.

And so they stood in silence, Sam focused and Lucifer watching, until the devil sighed. “Look, Sam—“

“Shut up.” The hunter bristled. He didn’t understand it. Why would Lucifer say ‘ _I love you’_ and then refuse to speak when a bewildered Sam turned to look at him, ‘ _What_?’ spilling from his lips? Why would Lucifer up and leave without a single word after that? He didn’t let go of the devil’s hand even after he finished tending to it; he just continued to hold it, his thumb running over his palm absentmindedly. Lucifer remained quiet.

“…You know, usually you confess your love, you’re not supposed to run.”

“Sam, I—“

“I’m not finished.”

Lucifer shut his mouth.

He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “But you know, I get it. I think…you’re like me. You’re scared of commitment. You’re scared of getting hurt, or of hurting the one you love. So you run. But why confess, _and then_ run? Shouldn’t you have run before I knew of your feelings?” Sam glanced up at the archangel, nearly taken aback by the barely concealed fondness in glacial blue eyes.

The devil smiled. “I ran, because you weren’t meant to know. I was content to simply love you without that fear of not having that love reciprocated. I could stay by your side, protect you.”

“Are you ashamed of loving me?”

“No.”

Sam had his lips pressed to Lucifer’s the moment the word left his lips. The devil closed his eyes, and Sam trailed his hands up Lucifer’s arms. He broke away after a moment, heart thudding against his chest. “…Then don’t run any more.”

* * *

He knew Dean wouldn’t like it. He knew that if Dean found out, his brother would flip shit, say he couldn’t be trusted, ‘ _How could you trust him?! He’s the fucking_ devil, _Sam!_ ” He knew all this, and yet he blew it. He had let slip that he fucking kissed Lucifer because he was stupid enough to think his brother would be okay with it. He should have known better, but here he was, pacing in his room, filled with anger and contempt because how dare Dean say he was sick in the head, when Lucifer was so calm and understanding?

The devil left, of course. Sam couldn’t blame him, not when Dean shoved Lucifer out of the bunker and slammed the door shut in his face.

Why was he here?

He could leave. Dean seemed to have no problem with leaving, or making Sam leave. He could leave, and it would be of his own will.

Sam grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on, storming out of his room and to the bunker’s entrance. He could feel Dean’s eyes on him from where he sat at the table, but Sam paid him no mind. He really didn’t need to—Dean didn’t even protest. Typical. He wrenched the door shut and left with nothing but a car from the garage and the sole intention of tracking down the wandering angel.

He found him about halfway into town, and he sighed in relief as he pulled up beside him and got out of the car.

Lucifer let Sam pull him into a hug, which he soon reciprocated.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, Sam.”

“I’m so—fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Being angry won’t solve anything.”

“How can you be so forgiving?”

“I’m not. I’m patient.”

“Patient?”

Lucifer hummed. “Dean is stubborn. Only time can change his attitude; I can wait for that, no matter how long it takes.”

“Yeah, well—I don’t want to wait until I’m dead for Dean to pull his head out of his ass.”

A hand found its way into Sam’s hair, fingers tucking stray locks behind his ear. It was soothing, and Sam found it odd that the devil was soothing. “Your brother is not a bad person, Sam. He’s made bad decisions, some of them with ill intent. But do not doubt that he doesn’t love you. He just wants to protect you.”

“I don’t need his protection, not when he has no consideration for my feelings. I’m sick and tired of it all and—“ He paused, Lucifer’s finger pressed against his lips. The devil smiled.

“Patience, Sam. He’ll come around. And if it takes forty, fifty years? So be it. You’ll be more at peace if you can endure these trials without anger.”

* * *

“You’re strange.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow, looking up from the bible on his lap that he had pulled from the bedside drawer. He closed it and returned it to its proper place and sat up a bit more, motel pillows supporting his back against the headboard. An amused smirk spread across his face. “How so?”

“Well, aside from that,” Sam motioned to the drawer, padding gently to the bed and sitting down at the devil’s feet. “You’re…not what I would’ve expected the devil to be.”

“How so?”

“Well…I would’ve thought you’d be the embodiment of sin. You know…pride, envy, wrath, sloth, greed, gluttony, lust? But you’re…more like their counterparts. The virtues.”

The archangel folded his fingers together, eyelids drooping and smile growing wider. “Is that what you think?” If Sam didn’t know better, he’d be willing to bet his soul this was comedic to the devil. Perhaps it was.

“Yes. I mean, I didn’t really realize it at first. But you refused my drunken advances, told me to wait all those months ago. After the hunt gone wrong, you didn’t let your own hunger consume you, you were in control. You give and give and give and ask for nothing in return, and you so careful in all your words and work. Above all, you’re patient and kind, and that’s completely unexpected. And I’m—I’m the one guilty of all these sins. You are opposite me, and I am your antithesis.”

Lucifer nodded, agreeing. “I see. What about humility, though?”

Sam paused.

“You are humble, Sam. Not me. Antithesis, indeed. Shouldn’t that have been expected?”

“It is—was,” he said, “but what’s not expected is how that doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Mm…”

“Because someone has to be prideful. Knowing you are makes me feel like…maybe I’m worth it. Because if you love me, then maybe I’m worth it.”

“You are worth it.”

Sam crawled closer to Lucifer, and he watched as that grin softened into a genuine smile. His hand found his cheek, thumb swiping across cold flesh, and Lucifer leaned into the touch, eyes slipping shut.

And Sam fell in love.


End file.
